Plight of the Paparazzi
by somethingborrowed3
Summary: STARSTRUCK My name is Libby Lam. I work for the Starstruck Network. My current project involves Christopher Wilde. I must find out what he is doing, running around town with this mystery girl. Jessica Olson/Christopher Wilde


My name is Libby Lam. I work in the tabloid industry. Yes, I've met tons of celebrities. No, I don't have any autographs to show you. They don't like me. They really don't. Unfortunately, I need to make a living. I need money to survive in modern society. Its a dog eat dog society – I do and say what I must to live a good life.

Right now, I am working on a project concerning Christopher Wilde. My sources inside the Walt Disney Company are telling me that he is negotiating terms to act in a new movie. If I get the inside scoop on this, I could become famous and filthy rich. I'd be promoted! No longer will I have to sit in those stuffy old vans, chasing people across California. I could work in a comfortable, air conditioned studio. I might even have my own TV show! The Libby Lam Show!

It's been nearly a day and there has been no word of Christopher Wilde. Maybe I went to far last night by portraying him as a violent paparazzi assaulter. However, tonight _is_ Alexis Bender's birthday party, and I'm sure he would show up there.

I smiled when I saw his red Ferrari pull up to the curb. I motioned to my cameramen to get their equipment ready. I lifted my microphone, questions all perfectly rehearsed and ready to ask. Everything was ready. The execution was going to be perfect. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Except that it did. Stubby jumped out of the driver's seat and danced his way onto the sidewalk. Nobody else was in the vehicle. I noticed that Alexis Bender also wore a confused face. She seemed quite sad.

I pointed her out to my photographers. "You got her?" They nodded.

I scanned around and narrowed my eyes. This is unusual. Where was Mr. Wilde? I saw Alexis walking back into the club. Stubby went with her, accompanied by a girl that I did not recognize. That was interesting - but if only I got the scoop on what Christopher Wilde was doing...

I motioned to my crew. "Come on, we're going. Brett and Alex, you stay here and report updates on the situation." They nodded and blended in with the rest of the crowd.

The rest of us returned to our black vans, which were parked several blocks away from Under 21. My head was spinning the entire time. What was Christopher Wilde doing? He knows that if he misses Alexis Bender's birthday party, the tabloids would spell doom for him on the front cover of tomorrow's issues. He would never risk that.

"Libby, where should we head now?" Bentley, our driver, turned around and asked me.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe we should pay a visit to Christopher's mansion. We might get some clues there. Send the other van on a tour around the perimeter of Beverly Hills, just in case Christopher tries to get home."

Bently nodded. "Will do."

Several minutes later, I got a call from Brett informing me that the big screens outside the club was broadcasting Christopher's live concert inside.

"Damn it," I screeched. "That boy must have snuck in somewhere."

"What should we do?" Bentley asked me again.

"Well, now we know where Christopher is. Send the other van over to pick up Brett and Alex and then stalk his Ferarri. We're heading over to his mansion and hiding there."

Bently nodded again. I returned to my cell phone and relayed the instructions back to Brett.

I smiled and rubbed my hands together. This might get interesting. However interesting I was hoping that it would be, I did not imagine for one second how crazy the whole situation was going to become.

* * *

We hid in the bushes just outside of the Wilde Estate gates. A close friend of mine managed to get invited to a party being held there and was relaying me information. Of course, there wasn't much to say since Christopher Wilde was not present.

Brett had just given me a call, telling me that they had tracked Christopher's Ferrari to the Ronald Reagan UCLA Hospital. I was confused. What was he doing there?

"I'm not entirely sure. But there's a tow truck outside, towing a smashed up Ferrari out of the parking lot."

I furrowed my brow, confused. "What? Did you see what happened."

"No."

Just then, I saw an old clunker drive up to the gates. The gates quickly opened and gave him access.

"Quick," I yelled and motioned to my crew. "That must be Christopher!"

Bentley quickly heaved up his camera, but was too late. The car had already drove up the winding road up the hill.

I sighed. "Come on, let's return to the van. Maybe we can intercept him should he try to leave."

While I sat in the van, I became intrigued with what my informant was telling me. It indeed was Christopher who drove that clunker home, but apparently he was accompanied by a girl. Not Alexis Bender, but a brunette.

"They seemed to be very close, bickering their way up the stairs and giggling," the informant told me.

I grinned. This information is like gold for paparazzi like me. I listened to the rest of the story and even managed to catch a grainy recording of his new song.

"What's Christopher doing now?" I asked my informant.

"I don't know. He disappeared."

Suddenly, I saw a large, blue Lamborghini race past the van. I quickly shoved Bentley to wake him up, and we followed, hot on his tail. Unfortunately, curse those traffic lights, we were stopped at a red light and lost his trail.

After spending a few hours combing the Hollywood neighborhoods for him, we decided to call it a day. I called Brett and told them to leave the hospital (they were still there!) and told them to make their presence very visible at the front gates of the Wilde mansion.

Hopefully, that would scare Christopher from returning for a while.

* * *

The next day, I wore my best dress and applied some light makeup. I had contacted the studio executives and they gave me a five minute spot to announce my findings last night. I was beyond excited. Finally, all my hard work was about to pay off.

I sat down at the Starstruck couch and stared straight at the camera. The lights turned on. A studio hand held up three fingers. He dropped one. He dropped another. Then he punched the air.

I smiled and stared straight at the camera lens. "Alexis Bender arrived at _her_ birthday party tonight, _without_ her leading man," I began. I was beyond excited.

"Although no one saw him arrive at the fabulous club, Under 21, witnesses confirm that Christopher Wilde did indeed make a secret appearance to sing for the packed house of well-wishers. Witnesses say that he left the party immediately following his performance only to magically reappear at his Beverly Hills mansion several hours later with a _different_ girl. My sources tell me this mystery girl may be stealing the heart of our favorite pop star."

I stole a glance at the studio hand, who was pointing to his watch. Time to wrap it up.

"We will work around the clock to bring you the latest information on this mystery girl. I'm Libby Lam, and this is Starstruck TV."

The studio lights shut off and the red Live sign dimmed.

"Great work, Libby" Bentley said, walking up to me. "Come on, we found Christopher's car at Malibu Beach. A couple of us are headed over there now. Wanna come?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

When we arrived at the beach, sure enough, his big blue car was sitting there in the parking lot. I scanned the beach. Christopher Wilde was nowhere in sight.

Brett came running up to me. "Hey, Libby. I think Christopher escaped again."

I sighed impatiently and gave the beach another scan. "It looks like it. Tell me, has anyone left since you got here?"

Brett shrugged. "I dunno. Most people are still arriving. It's morning and families want to spend the afternoon here. I did notice an oddly colored pink car leave, though."

"Pink? Okay. Well, Brett, stay here and keep a tab on things. The rest of you, come on, lets go."

"So I'm staying behind again?"

I smiled. "Don't worry, Brett. Your information is usually the most important. I depend on it."

"Okay," Brett replied, not looking reassured.

The rest of the day was incredibly boring. We toured the entirety of Los Angeles and found no leads. I flipped open my laptop and scanned the latest news. I breathed a sigh of relief. No new news from competitors either.

"Where are you, Christopher Wilde?" I whispered.

Suddenly, Bentley spoke up. "Wait, that was a pink car."

"So?"

"Remember what Brett said?"

I paused for a moment. "Turn around! Turn around!"

Bentley swerved the van in a sharp U-turn. I was afraid that we would tip over. The only thing that came out of chasing the pink car up the dirt road was that we got stuck in quicksand and required the other van's help to pull it out.

Wonderful.

While everyone was trying to save our van, I sat on a tree branch and flipped open my laptop again. Brett was sending me pictures!

One of them intrigued me the most. Was this the mystery girl? I quickly forwarded it to my informant from Wilde Estate the other night and received an almost immediate confirmation.

The mystery girl was exiting a phone booth, crying. Behind her, Christopher was swamped by a crowd of endearing fans.

What exactly happened here? In any case, I sent the snapshots to headquarters, along with my informant's confirmation – where both would undoubtedly be aired.

Thanks Brett.

* * *

That night, I sat in my office, doing some research. I contacted the Wilde family physician, Dr. Sanjay Dasari at the UCLA hospital, but he explained patient's confidentiality to me. He wouldn't give me any information about whether or not Christopher visited and whether or not he was accompanied by a girl.

Perhaps it was just a stroke of luck that I found Jessica Olson online. I was flipping through the list of Christopher Wilde fans on his official fanpage. I found a girl named Sara Olson who looked suspiciously similar to the girl who led Stubby into Under 21 the night of Alexis Bender's birthday party.

Interested, and believing I was on the right path, I investigated further. As I was flipping through her Facebook profile (note: all you people out there need to set up privacy settings), I learned that she had a sister named Jessica Olson. Without a doubt, this was the mystery girl.

Jessica Olson. Nice name.

I had my men do a quick search for anyone named Jessica Olson. She was underage, of course, so we relied on the surname of Olson. That surname was far too ubiquitous. There were three in the tiny city of Kalamazoo, Michigan, for Pete's sake!

Eventually, Bentley came forward with convincing evidence that she was currently residing at the residence of Barbara Washington. I immediately sent Brett over to investigate. He didn't seem too happy. If he weren't such a great photographer, I'd have fired him by now for his attitude.

Once again, ABrett did not disappoint. The very next morning, I received a set of pictures of Jessica Olson and her family in the email. And not a second had passed when I got a call from Christopher Wilde's agent who was offering an exclusive interview.

I informed the studio executives of the information, and they agreed to set a prime time slot for me.

Prime time!

* * *

That night, I once again sat on the Starstruck couch. I felt myself getting comfortable on the couch. Christopher Wilde sat opposite to me.

"So, we're talking about this girl, Jessica Olson," I reminded Christopher, as one of Brett's pictures flashed up on the screen behind me.

He looked up at the screen and I thought I saw regret flash through his eyes. "Okay," he told me.

I smiled inside. He was avoiding the question! It became obvious that I struck gold. "Do you know her?" I continued to press Christopher.

He shook his head. "No."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So, you're telling me you don't know this girl."

"Uh, ya," He told me. "Look, I dunno what she's saying about me, but I don't know anybody named Jessica Olson. Sorry, Libby, but there's nothing more to tell."

I was still very suspicious, but I thought it apt to pretend to be disappointed – at least for the time being. "Ok," I told Christopher. I turned and faced the cameras and told it, "You heard it first here. I'm Libby Lam, and this is Starstruck News." The cameras shut off once again and the lights dimmed.

"I don't believe you," I told Christopher. "I have evidence that you two hung out all day."

Christopher looked at me. "Look. If it weren't for you and..." He suddenly stopped, asi f he realized something. "You know what? Never mind. This room is probably bugged anyway." He turned around and stomped out of the studio.

I rubbed my chin. I think a flight to Michigan was in order.

* * *

I arrived in Kalamazoo early the next morning, just barely in time to catch the Olson's rush up their front lawn. What can I say? Starstruck TV network offered me the fastest private jet in service. It was really amazing, actually.

The dad put a protective arm around Jessica and the family just plowed right through us. Sara stayed behind for a while, but not for long.

I stood on the lawn, chatting with Bentley.

"You know, this could be our big break. If we write a breaking story. A real story. We might finally be taken seriously as journalists. Not just tabloid writers or commentators. Perhaps-" I was suddenly interrupted by the front door opening. My dreams of becoming a real journalist was temporarily set aside.

I quickly motioned for Bentley to turn on his camera. I rushed over and stuck my microphone in Jessica's face.

"Tell me what you know about Christopher Wilde. We only want the truth," I told her.

Jessica looked at me angrily. "You don't want the truth," she accused me. "You want a story. You take a good normal person and turn him into your own little reality show. You build him up into a celebrity just so you can tear him down in public. Just so you can sell magazines and TV shows? That's. Really. Sick." She emphasized those last three words.

I stared at her guiltily. I tried to telepathically tell her that I didn't want things to blow up like this. My job was to entertain the public. To provide them news. Freedom of press, right? But as I pondered, I realized that people did indeed deserve privacy. But it was too late to back out now, not when I was so close to making it big. The studio would surely fire me. And I was not ready to bring Bentley down with me.

Jessica continued speaking. "And Christopher Wilde is just one example. He's talented. And successful. He's lots of stuff kids dream of having. But thanks to you, he's had to give up some of the best things in life."

Really? I honestly, deep down, started to feel sorry for the kid. I sighed. But business first, right?

"Freedom? Privacy?" Jessica gulped. "Honesty?"

Then Jessica turned her eyes and stared right into mine. "So congratulations. You've created a celebrity. But you have _wrecked_ the human being inside. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

I turned around and looked at Bentley. "Did you get that?" He nodded and gave me a thumbs up.

I turned around again and looked at Jessica. "Jessica. Jessica. Just one more question. In your opinion. Who is Christopher Wilde. Really?"

Jessica swallowed. "Who is he? I don't know," she then continued with increasing ferocity. "The Christopher Wilde that you're all so obsessed with – I promise you...I've never met him. And I wouldn't want to."

She then turned around and retreated back to the house. I stared at the door for a few long minutes. "Bentley," I said. "Are we doing the right thing, invading people's privacy like this?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, Libby. I really dunno. But the corporate execs demand this of us. We have to do this if we want food on our plates."

I nodded. Yeah.

Later that evening, as I sat in my hotel room, I received a call from an informant that Christopher Wilde was here in Kalamazoo. I smiled knowingly. It was beyond obvious, knowing the information that I know, that Christopher Wilde knows and likes Jessica.

I relayed the information to Bentley. He looked up at me. "Then lets head over to McKinley High School. There is a dance there tonight, and that is where Wilde undoubtedly will be headed for."

"Let's go then!" I grabbed my mic and Bentley lifted his heavy camera. Sometimes, I feel sorry for him, having to carry that thing around everywhere.

As I jumped out of the van, I heard Christopher's voice coming from within. I listened at the lyrics for a moment. It was a love ("I'm so sorry") song! How cute.

As Bentley and I lumbered into the hallway, we were stopped by a man who identified himself as the principal of the school. I pulled the common "public property, freedom of press" card – which worked very well with people who were ill-informed with the laws of our government. I hear it worked very well at the UCLA hospital those few days ago. That seemed like years ago.

Having finally managed to evade the principal, Bentley and I hurriedly rushed down the hallways, following the direction of the singing. My heart missed a beat when he stopped. Oh no! We were too late!

I barged into the gym and quickly located Christopher, staring lovingly at Jessica. I quickly stuck my microphone in front of his face and caught the word "I'm the one who lied" coming out of his mouth before he jerked backwards, looking at me. Unexpectedly, and with ferocity that reminded me of Jessica, he yanked the microphone away from my hand and glared at the camera.

"I lied about knowing Jessica Olson," he stated. "Cause the truth is, I know Jessica Olson. Jessica Olson is a terrible navigator, and a know-it-all...but she's honest. When she makes a promise. She keeps it. She understands me like no one else does." He turned his head sideways and stared at Jessica again with those loving eyes. "I'm _crazy_ about her."

Christopher lowered the microphone, though he continued to speak. "Jessica, I'm so sorry I hurt you." I instinctively grabbed the mic from him and stuck it in his face again. I felt a little bad for doing so – the conversation seemed to be taking a more private turn. But Christopher didn't seem to mind much.

"Jessica, I'm so sorry. I know that I hurt you. And I will never do anything like that again. Just. Please. Forgive me?"

There was a long pause as the entire room held its breath. Nothing moved. Even the decorations hung silently – not swaying a single inch. After a few suspenseful moments, Jessica smiled and nodded, and a resounding "aww" filled the room. I must admit, my heart felt like it would burst.

Christopher smiled the widest I had ever seen him smile. It truly was a beautiful moment.

I was staring and nodding mindlessly as I was engrossed in the moment just as much as the other onlookers. Christopher then turned and looked at me, and I broke free of the enchantment. "Go away. _Now_." He told me.

I jumped. "Oh, okay." I turned around and motioned to Bentley. "Come on, let's get out of here. Move it."

And that's the end of my story. I wrote a long editorial about the whole situation, where I publicly apologized for my unprofessionalism. The studio executives didn't really like that much – and I was fired. It wasn't all bad, though. A few weeks later, I was hired by Christopher to be his official press release writer.

And now, I am sitting in Christopher Wilde's beautiful living room, writing a book. This book will be about all the things I learned being tabloid reporter. Mostly, however, it will be about what I learned from reporting the situation about Christopher and Jessica.

* * *

**Okay, this is the third installment of my Starstruck series. Thanks for reading! Please R&R!**


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